


Pirate Diplomacy

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 04:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12449466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: A criminal mastermind and his crew runs afoul of Killian Jones... and his new sidekick.(This fic was 100% an excuse to write Killian Jones threatening people with a baby strapped to his chest. For reasons.)





	Pirate Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

> There's a sketch that goes with this, if you want to see: http://svenjaliv.tumblr.com/post/166651031851/a-very-quick-messy-sketch-of-killian-with-his-and

It’s almost night time in Storybrooke. The hour between light and dark, where distances grow fuzzy and the eyes play tricks.

The thieving hour, it ought to be called. At least, in the opinion of a young criminal mastermind by the name of Jack Bradagan, who is probably given to more poetic flights of fancy than most thieves.

Storybrooke, he has discovered in the short time since he stumbled through a portal, is a very sleepy, unassuming town. The port is far less crowded than any he’s ever visited back home. In fact, at this hour, it’s all but deserted. There is no noise and light spilling from taverns beckoning sailors to drink and spend their coin, no brothel or loitering whore to be seen anywhere, no late-night gambling or merchant stalls.

He has his target. He has his crew. He also has a sword, and several knives hidden in strategic places upon his person. He takes a deep breath, then motions to the other four, and they make their way along the docks, to the lone sailing ship tied up at the pier. The _Jolly Roger_.

The gangplank is down. Jack leads the way up to the deck, almost giddy with excitement. The price he paid for the tip-off looks to have been worth it. It’s not nearly this easy to even board a ship back home.

“I don’t think you want to do that, mate,” says a man’s voice behind him. It’s a hard, world-weary sort of voice, a voice that has seen more than its share of thievery. It’s followed by a soft cooing sound that seems out of place. The voice goes on, “Turn around.”

Jack is already doing so. His heart is simultaneously somewhere around his knees, and trying to jump into his throat. He knows that voice, or rather, he knows what a voice like that means. It’s a voice used to giving orders. He’s heard it from many a captain, though never quite like _this_.

The man standing in front of him looks like he was made for thieving hour. He is dark-haired and dressed in shades of black and grey and navy, so that he seems to blend into the falling night, except for the pale skin of his face and hand. His one hand, which is currently holding a sword, the curved blade pointing at Jack. The other arm ends in a wicked curve of metal. More metal gleams at his belt: a strange-looking badge of some kind.

Strapped to his chest is a baby. Jack blinks, taken aback, but it is definitely a baby, cradled against the man’s chest, tiny hands flailing a little.

If Jack wasn’t so distracted by his dual-location heart and the blade pointing at him, he might notice that the child’s hair is the same shade of dark as the man’s, her ears have the same elfin points to them.

As it is, he only notices the baby’s presence, and rallies. His hand goes to his own sword. “I think maybe you’re the one who doesn’t want to do this… _Hook_.”

Captain Hook, or Deputy Killian Jones these days, considers this. He shifts his weight to his other foot, centuries of pirate swagger in one simple movement. “Oh, I rather doubt that. You see, this is _my_ ship.”

The baby makes another cooing sound, its tiny fist beating against one of the wide straps over his shoulder.

“And we keeps what’s ours, don’t we, darling,” Killian goes on, with a fond look down at the child.

Jack has heard tell of Captain Hook, of course. But while the man’s glower is certainly fearsome enough, the baby does rather ruin the intimidation attempt. Jack grins at him. “I think you’ll find it’s about to be my ship. Please step aside, we wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Killian smiles. It isn’t a nice smile. “Is that a threat?”

The baby gurgles something. Killian looks down, his gaze softening for a moment. “Aye, my love, we have them to rights, don’t we? I suggest you surrender,” his voice hardens again as he looks up, “before _you_ get hurt.”

“There’s five of us, and one of you,” says one of Jack’s crew.

“Two of us,” Killian corrects. “And one of us,” he dips his head to indicate the baby, “is the reason why you’re all currently still standing upright and free to move. Parenthood does give one a different perspective on the subject of patience, as it turns out. Nevertheless, I have to insist that you get the hell off my ship.”

“I have a better idea,” Jack tells him. “ _You_ get off the ship, and _we’ll_ get out of this bloody realm.”

“Not with my ship,” Killian says, steel in his voice.

“Oh, come on,” says another of the lads. “You can’t seriously expect to fight with the child right there.”

Killian spears him with a dark look. “I’ve learned to fight with all manner of limitations, lad. Though I don’t intend to, this time.”

Jack laughs. “Then how exactly do you see this working out for you?”

Killian shrugs lazily. “That rather depends. If you don’t say or try anything overly stupid, I might be merciful, and simply disarm you. Otherwise…” He smiles again. “I might have to call my wife.”

“Your wife?” two of the crew echo together, incredulous.

“Aye. She’s the sheriff, you see. Sheriff Emma Swan. You may have heard of her.”

Jack’s throat is suddenly, mysteriously, very dry.

“She doesn’t take kindly to theft, you understand,” Killian goes on, as if oblivious to the nervous glances that the crew is suddenly exchanging. “Nor to threats to her family. In fact, she’s probably getting nervous already - the wards she put up around the ship will have alerted her to your presence, of course. By my estimation, she’ll be here in two minutes, at most.” He smiles again. “I’m afraid she doesn’t have my patience, and she still doesn’t _quite_ trust me to handle these things, what’s the term, _diplomatically_.”

The baby coos again. Killian looks down. “I don’t know why either, darling, I’ve been on my best behaviour. I’ve not stabbed anyone since before you were born.”

It is dawning on Jack and his crew that perhaps getting onto the ship was not the hardest part of this endeavour. Getting _off_ it suddenly seems a lot harder, but also a lot more urgent.

There’s another gurgle from the baby.

Killian sighs. “Well, fair enough, but basilisks aren’t people and it _was_ doing rather a lot of damage. Even your mother agreed.”

“Uhm,” says Jack.

Killian looks at him. Then he gestures towards the gang plank. “You have perhaps a minute to make yourselves scarce.”

They hesitate for another moment. Then they run for it, the prospect of facing Captain Hook and Emma Swan in battle making their legs work rather harder than usual.

Killian watches them go, grinning in a self-satisfied sort of way. The grin wavers only slightly when Emma Swan steps out of the shadows further along the deck, her eyebrows raised. She has evidently been there for a little while, watching the proceedings. “You didn’t have to terrify them.”

“Fear is a powerful deterrent, love,” Killian says, looking unrepentant as he slides his sword back into the scabbard at his side.

“Sure.” She walks over to him, bending to press a kiss to her daughter’s head before looking back up at her husband. “And, you enjoyed that. Admit it.”

“Perhaps a little,” Killian concedes. “If _you’ll_ admit that I’m getting rather good at diplomacy.”

Emma arches an eyebrow, something she’s been getting noticeably better at. “ _That_ was diplomacy?”

“A brand of it, aye,” he says. “Pirate diplomacy. No one was stabbed.”

“It’s a step up,” Emma says with a put-upon sigh, although the effect is ruined somewhat by the way her mouth is twitching, her eyes sparkling with a hidden smile.

Killian leans towards her, his hand curled protectively around his daughter’s head, a devilish glint in his eyes. “Admit it, love,” he says in a low voice. “ _You_ enjoyed that, too.”


End file.
